The Blanket
by madame.alexandra
Summary: The origin story of the blanket in my stories "Thief" and "Repossession." H/L - immediately after escape from the Death Star/ANH.


_a/n: wrote this for a prompt on tumblr; figured i better post it here. so, the blanket companion pieces are now part of a trio._

* * *

 ** _The Blanket_**

* * *

Han Solo was still reeling from the events of the day – this one job had gone from what seemed like an easy cargo freight involving only two men and a hell of a pay day, and turned into his involvement in what was a fledgling but very vigorous sort of coup d'état. He'd been wallowing in Corellian rye whiskey in Mos Eisley just a few days ago, mulling over how he was going to outsmart Jabba, and now he was thinking _– Jabba be damned; Chewbacca and I just charged into Darth Vader's backyard._

He shook his head, his blood still pounding in his ears – the rush of battle always left him more contemplative than restless; he'd never been the type of man who 'got his blood up' and needed a woman or a drink; he always wanted to look out at the stars and critically analyze how the _fuck_ he was still alive.

There generally weren't women available to him after a heart-stopping sort of fight, anyway, and though technically there was a woman – a girl, really – around this time, he was more perplexed by her than interested. Sure, he teased the farm kid a little – but Han did that just to be punk; he had no personal investment in a little slip of a girl who called herself both a princess and a revolutionary and claimed that the Empire had just let them off easy.

 _Let them off easy –_ as if it were easy to stare death in the face like they just had.

Han shook his head, frowning vaguely – he figured he'd better go run a quick check on everything, both systems and people. Chewbacca was down in the turret making sure the weapons configurations were all ready to go for next time, and so Han got up, making his way through the ship.

He cursorily checked everything, and then swung by a storage room where Luke was rummaging around for some rations. He leaned in the doorway and cleared his throat.

"Hey, kid," he said. "Where's that girl?"

Luke turned around, frowning in a mixture of annoyance and exasperation.

"Her name's Leia," he corrected defensively. "She's a princess, not just some _girl_."

"You met her two hours ago, you don't know what she wants to be called," Han retorted smartly. "Maybe you ought to be calling her Your Majesty," he pointed out, and then shot Luke a smirk. "Maybe she wants to be called Sweetheart."

"Probably not by you," Luke retorted edgily.

Han arched a brow.

"You neither," he fired back. He tilted his head. "Where is she?"

"She's in the spare bunk," Luke muttered. He glanced in that general direction. "I was in there trying to talk to her, but I think she wanted to be alone."

He sounded forlorn, and Han gave him a look.

"Don't take that personal," he grunted. "Look, that was her planet, right? The one blown to shit?"

Luke nodded, and Han shrugged.

"Well," he said pointedly. "So, it's not _you_." Luke still looked down, and Han shook his head abruptly. "Kid, you got a lot to learn about people," he said grimly. "Did she seem hurt?" he went on grudgingly.

"You care about that?" Luke asked, edgy again. "She's just a bounty to you, right?"

Han felt a twinge of annoyance near the back of his neck, just at the tip of his spine – probably his long buried conscience, crammed behind some tight muscle near the base of his skull and itching to reappear – he was a good person once, who would have cared if someone nice was hurt no matter what, but he hadn't been that man in a long time, so –

"Yea, well, a prize is only worth the money if it's in good condition."

He sounded more bitter than flippant, and he backed off Luke, turning on his heel to seek out the spare bunk. Chewie must have shown her in there, in an effort to keep everyone away from Han's personal sleeping space. That twinge bothered Han again though – the spare bunk was uncomfortable and had a faulty heating unit.

He poked his head in there and saw the girl – the Princess – laying on her side staring directly at him. Rather – she'd been staring at the bunkroom doorway, but since he now occupied it, she was staring at him.

He found himself momentarily unnerved by that stare, he supposed because – most people would have blinked, or looked down, but she did not; she just held his gaze, and he had no idea what this girl – woman, he decided; _girl_ was a silly way to describe her – was thinking.

He cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said. He jerked his head to the next room. "Go sleep in my bunk," he said flatly. "It's warm."

Her lashes twitched slightly, and she turned up her nose.

"Your reward is to be a monetary credit from the Rebellion, Captain," she said snidely, "not my presence in your bed."

Ego wounded, and immediately irritated that his attempt at being decent was rejected so fast, Han gave her a reactionary sneer.

"Get over yourself, Your Highness," he said shortly.

She gave him a cool look. He crossed his arms, nettled.

"You think every man wants to sleep with you, or is it just me?" he goaded. "You won't be shocked to hear my tastes are less _refined_."

She blinked heavily, and then turned over, rolling onto her other side. He was half-tempted to keep going at her, since she'd taken it upon herself to be so haughty about being rescued, but there was something dead there in her eyes, and it deflated him a little – defense mechanism, he thought, brushing off her prickliness – and why should he care if she wanted to be nasty to him; better she take it out on a stranger she'd never see again than Luke, since the kid was so sensitive.

He turned on his heel, intent on smacking the sliding door shut – he stopped in the hall though, because he'd noticed her shivering. He wanted to storm off and let her be, let her stew in her issues and her acidity, but unfortunately he'd seen that, and he wasn't going to be able to _un-see_ it, and as hardened and calloused as he was…he still didn't think he could leave her in there shaking in the cold and go on with his flight like it was nothing.

Scowling at the remnants of his younger, his better self, he stormed into his bunk and distractedly grabbed a blanket off his bed, running his fingers over it, lifting it to his nose to make sure it was clean. It was earthy green and soft, something from Chewbacca's home planet – well, Malla had given it to him, and it would certainly keep Her Highness warm.

He went back in and strode across the room.

"Here," he said, laying it down on top of her, "take my blanket."

He didn't say anything else, or stick around to persuade her; she didn't seem to be wholly aware of him, anyway; she'd closed her eyes tightly and was holding one hand to her ear. He tugged the blanket down over her feet to cover them, and then pulled it up to her shoulders as well, saying nothing else.

When he smoothed the edge of it over her shoulder, she shifted away a little nervously, and he noticed, with a significant drop in his stomach, that there was something bruised and nasty on her neck. Without thinking, he reached out to run his thumb over the mark –

 _Bite marks; human teeth._

He traced his fingers around the mark. She knocked his hand away, though the movement was gentler than he would have expected it to be. He leaned over and looked at her face carefully, studying her.

"What did they do to you?" he asked quietly.

He didn't intend to sound morbidly curious, but if she needed more medical attention than he could see with the naked eye –

She slid her palm over the mark, blocking it from view, and swallowed hard.

"Please do not touch me," she said – her only answer, and he pulled his hand back.

She curled up in the blanket tightly, making herself into a little ball, and Han stood back. He backed out of the room silently, leaving her with the blanket - -and ran into Luke just outside the door. The kid looked at him, quizzical and earnest, concerned, and Han gave him a sharp look.

"Leave her alone," he said grimly.

"Why?" Luke asked, innocent. "Is she – mad at me?"

Han sighed, rubbing his jaw tiredly.

"Just leave her alone, kid," he said, with a little less harshness.

Luke stepped back, nodding, and Han leaned back against the wall, considering him – did this half-grown moisture farmer from some backwoods planet understand what he'd gotten them into?

* * *

 _story #322_  
 _-Alexandra_


End file.
